


Toasting to another year's end

by tisktisk (PornyZiallFeels)



Series: It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas... [4]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Actor Louis, Alternate Universe, M/M, Model Zayn, New Year's Eve, off screen narry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 01:59:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5316020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PornyZiallFeels/pseuds/tisktisk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me 4 secs til the new year</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toasting to another year's end

The party was in full swing, but Zayn wasn’t really in the mood for celebrating. The room was brimming with people the who-who’s of Hollywood, anyone who thought they were anyone had been invited to Simon Cowell’s L.A. mansion for the last big bash of the year—send 2015 off right.

So it didn’t make sense that in a room full of people Zayn Malik had never felt more alone, he was still relatively new to stardom, having been discovered while riding the tube home from school one day and he was signed to Storm Models within the week. He’s only been modeling for a year, but was quickly taking over the industry—you couldn’t walk a street corner without looking up and seeing his face plastered on some kind of billboard or ad – andmaking enough of a fuss to be invited to the party of the century.

He didn’t even want to come truth be told, it wasn’t his scene. No matter how pretty or popular he got or how many people fawned over him, clamoring for just the chance to touch him or get a photo, none of it meant anything to him. He still didn’t feel like he fit in. He’d much rather stay at home and paint the walls of his London flat or chill out listening to music, than attend some big movie premiere or high profile tadoo.

It didn’t help that he didn’t know anyone here, sure he recognized most of them but they weren’t friends of his, barely even acquaintances. He only knew them from the big screen or the radio. He knew _of_ them, but didn’t know anything _about_ them, and none of them had bothered to stop and ask about him, to actually get to know him. No, instead he was left alone in the corner nursing the same drink he’d been handed upon arrival, which felt like ages ago.

Worst of all, his phone battery had died on him not long ago, so he couldn’t even amuse himself by playing Panda pop to pass the time until the bloody ball finally saw fit to drop. Not only that, but he’d also run out of smokes some time back, putting him on edge among everything else. So it was safe to say that he was having a terrible night.

The only upside was this one waiter who made his rounds of the room with a tray either filled with champagne glasses or miniature versions of food Zayn couldn’t even pronounce.

He kept muttering sarcastic jokes and insults about every celebrity attendee, just loud enough for Zayn to pick up on, low-key roasting the entire room, the party’s host included, making Zayn chuckle under his breath, then try to cover it with a cough when it garnered him weird looks from the people sat near him.

Zayn watches as the waiter is approached by Harry Styles, a YouTube sensation turned cable access chef who uses only organic ingredients that he apparently grows himself. From the looks of it, they get into a semi-heated discussion, Styles waving his hands between the waiter and the tray of food he held, and even from a distance Zayn could tell the waiter was doing his very best to bite his tongue, but after a few more seconds of abuse, the waiter finally spat something back that instantly shut the YouTube hippie up and walked away.

“Oi Styles, 80’s Jagger called he wants his bloody look back.” The waiter grumbled as he moved over to where Zayn stood, gathering the empty glasses and fancy doilies that guests were given to eat on. Before he could stop himself, Zayn let out a snort of laughter, drawing the waiter’s attention to him.

“You alright there? Need a top off? I think I’m due for a tray of bubbly next.” The waiter asked, flicking his fringe from his eye and gesturing to Zayn’s mostly full drink.

“N-no I’m good, thanks.”

“You sure? You’ve been holding the same glass for about an hour, it’s got to be warm by now and there’s nothing nastier than warm champagne.”

“An hour? Is that all it’s been?” Zayn groaned, rubbing at his temple with the hand not holding his drink. “I’m not really a champagne man, I’m just sort of holding it for show.”

The waiter made a thoughtful sound. “Care for a smoke instead?”

Zayn’s face literally lit up like a kid in a toy store at the offer. “Yes, please.”

The waiter shot him a quick grin, flicking his hair a second time. “Alright then, count to twenty and meet me in the left stairwell.”

Zayn does as he’s told, waiting the allotted twenty seconds before slipping out the apartment to the left stairwell, and takes a seat on the fourth step up while he waits for the other man. He’s there another twenty seconds or so before the door is pulled open and the other man shuffles in, already patting a fag out of the pack, which he puts between his lips before holding the pack out to Zayn.

Shaking out a cigarette for himself, Zayn patiently waits until the other man has lit his before tossing him the lighter. Holding the flame to the end of his cigarette, he finally took his first blessed pull, tilting his head up to blow his smoke up at the ceiling with a blissful sigh.

“You’re an angel.” He practically moaned out, making the other man laugh.

“Jonesing that bad, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

 The slighter man hummed, taking a deep drag of his own cigarette. “Mm, this isn’t really my thing.” He explained, waving his hand around.

“So I noticed.”

“It’s just standing around drinking with folks I don’t know or give a shit about, like who can honestly say that’s their idea of a good time—it’s new year’s eve, a time to be spent with friends and loved ones, not strangers kissing each other’s arses.”  Zayn spat, with a disgusted shake of his head.

“Well, you sound like you’re a long way from home, mate.”

Zayn snorted. “So do you, _mate_.”

“Fair enough, but I’m getting paid to be here, what do you get out of it?” The waiter asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Honestly? I don’t have a clue, my PR said it’d be good for my image but at this point, I don’t even think it’s worth the trouble.”

“So you’re famous then?” He asked, flicking ash onto the floor. “I mean I sorta suspected because it’s a celebrity affair but I can’t for the life of me place ya.” He admitted without shame which Zayn could respect.

“I guess you wouldn’t really if you’re not into fashion.”

The other man’s eyes light up. “So you’re a model, then?” He asks, letting out a whistle. “That makes a lot of sense, actually.” He says, waving a hand at Zayn’s face.

“Thanks?” Zayn said, scuffing the toes of his Louboutin shoes on the bottom step.

The waiter shrugs. “So, what name would I type in if I were to google ya after all this?”

“Zayn.”

“Just Zayn?”

“That’s all you’d need to look me up, but my last names Malik.”

“Cool Tomlinson, Louis Tomlinson.”

“So Louis, what’s your deal? Waiting at stuffy parties your life’s ambition?”

“Yeah right, I’m afraid I’m just another classic cliché out of work actor stuck waiting tables until I catch my big break. Moved to L.A. a couple of years ago from Doncaster thinking I’d fair better in the city of stars, but I haven’t been able to land more than a few commercials here and there, but I guess it’s something. What about you, you always know that face of yours was going to take you to the top?”

“No, truthfully I know shit all about fashion, I draw—like to draw and I sing a little. Always reckoned I’d be famous for one of those—for actually _doing_ something, ya know, other than standing there looking pretty.”

“Eh, but you’re doing well for yourself, no? The way I see it, you get your foot in the door through modeling, make all your connections, and then when the time is right, you try selling your art or cut an ep or summat.”

Zayn pulled a dubious face, leaning back on his elbows. “I must not be doing that well if you didn’t even know who I was.” He points out with a grin to show there were no hard feelings.

“I might’ve lied about that.”

“What?”

“Not about your name, I honestly didn’t know what your name was, but I knew you were some kind of model, there’s a billboard of you near my flat, can see it from my window—I might’ve wanked to it a couple of times if we’re being honest here.”

“You...wow.”

“Yeah, it’s a bit surreal to have you standing there in front of me now, actually.” Louis confessed, suddenly finding his nails supremely interesting.

With the other man’s attention elsewhere, Zayn took the time to actually check him out. He was definitely fit, from his dreamy blue eyes and fetching smile, right down to his toned abs and incredible bum showcased in what had to be the tightest slacks Zayn has ever seenonanother bloke—not that he was complaining. By all accounts he looked like just the thing Hollywood went for, a young brunette DiCaprio, if you will, so it made no sense that he couldn’t catch a break—on the contrary, he should have casting directors knocking down his door. So the thought of someone like him pulling off to one of his billboards made something flip inside his belly—a feeling he’d long since forgotten.

Noticing they’ve both been quiet for much too long Zayn opens his mouth to speak, maybe ask which billboard it was, his Gucci, Armani or Calvin Klein, but before he can get a word out there’s a commotion from inside the apartment and Louis startles from his own thoughts, glancing down at his watch.

“Damn, guess we’d better go back in, huh?” And Zayn is glad to hear the regret in the other man’s voice as he tosses his cigarette butt, stomping it out before shrugging. “Just as well, my fifteen minutes are up anyway.”

Zayn stood, disposing of his own butt after one final drag, groaning as he blew smoke out the side of his mouth. “Great, back to weaving my way through the bullshit and dodging ass kissers who only acknowledge me because it’ll make for a good photo op.”

“Nah, they’re not all bad.”

Zayn lets out an incredulous snort. “Yeah, like who?”

“Well, there’s that one bloke who sang that one song.” Louis proceeds to hum the tune as if that will help. “Liam Prawn.”

“You mean Payne?”

Louis snaps his fingers, impressed. “Right, right Payne, that’s him. Met him by the toilets, he was pretty ok, think you’d like him actually, he’s one of our own from Wolverhampton and feeling just as out of place.”

“I don’t know…”

“And then there’s Styles.”

“Styles? Harry Styles? The same lad you just got into a tiff with?”

“That wasn’t a tiff, that was just him being a pretentious knob—he gets that way sometimes, let’s all this go to his head and forgets where he comes from, but he’s actually a bit of alright. He’s dating my roommate, so I’ve developed a soft spot for him against me will.”

“Your roommate?”

“Yeah, he’s working tonight too, but when he’s not donning a penguin suit and offering people mini quiches, he performs at local bars trying to be the next John Mayer. He’s seriously talented but unfortunately no one’s biting.”

“That’s rough man.”

“Eh, it’s all part of the fame game. I reckon we’ll get our turn someday.” He said, flashing Zayn a quick grin, and again Zayn was thrown by how attractive he was, envious of his carefree attitude and take on life. He really wished he were more like that, more take things as they come and go with the flow instead of the anxiety ridden perfectionist he was.

They enter the apartment just in time to hear the entire room chanting down from five and Zayn can’t help but groan inwardly, because this was the part of the night he’d been dreading. The part where everyone around him started pairing off as the countdown dwindled down to one while he pathetically stood around twiddling his thumbs and waiting for it all to end, doing his own little countdown to when it would be appropriate to leave.

He turns to Louis thinking maybe they could share an awkward cheek kiss at the very least, only to find the other man was gone, seeming to vanish into thin air, which was just great—made sense, actually. He wouldn’t be surprised if Louis had been just a figment of his imagination all along, a fit bloke who he was not only physically attracted to, but also had an ace personality, managed to make him laugh, and was from back home. He should’ve known he was too good to be true.

“One!” Everyone shouted while Zayn rubbed at the back of his neck feeling like a loser, the only sorry sod who didn’t have anyone to kiss, watching couples snogging all around and was just about to go hide out in the bathroom until everything died down only to feel something or someone rather, tug at his arm and he turned to find Louis grinning shyly.

“Not so fast, Malik.” He purred and before Zayn could ask Louis had leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his lips, and for a moment Zayn forgot how to breathe because things like this only happened in the movies—new year’s kisses with complete strangers - but he couldn’t find it in him to complain, instead he kissed back, satisfied by the pleased sound Louis made in the back of his throat.

“Happy New Year.” He said when they finally drew apart, Zayn licking his lips, trying to chase the faint traces of the other man.

“Erm, yeah—um you too.” Zayn stammered, embarrassed to feel the telltale warmth of a blush on his cheeks.

Louis’ smile widened and he opened his mouth to say something, probably some wise crack about Zayn’s blush or summat, it warmed Zayn to think that he knew this man well enough already, only to be interrupted by a small blonde dressed similarly as Louis, only with his bow tie undone and lying draped around his neck.

“Oi, Tommo, what’re you doing out here? You know the real party’s back in the kitchen! El’s been asking after ya.” Zayn bit his lip at the mention of the mysterious El, figuring this was it, that Louis would no doubt choose to party with the party’s staff—his friends over being out here with him amongst these famous twats. But to his surprise Louis just rolled his eyes.

“You know, I think I’m good here, Ni.” The blonde raised an eyebrow, and turned to Zayn giving him the once over as if only noticing him. Zayn felt himself stiffen, bracing himself for Niall’s judgment.

But the blonde merely grinned, turning back to Louis. “Oh, I see.” He said, with a not at all subtle eyebrow wiggle that Zayn had to bite the inside of his cheek not to laugh at. “He could always come back with ya, you know Haz is already dancing on a table in just his pants, god I love that boy.” And the sincerity in his voice coupled with the fond little head shake made something ache inside Zayn’s chest—it had been much too long since he’d had someone to feel that way about.

He was so busy pouting that he almost missed it when Louis turned to him, eyes glinting with something Zayn couldn’t quite name. “What do you say?”

Zayn felt his breath catch at the look Louis was shooting him, it promised fun and adventure and a challenge which terrified him. He was used to living with caution, always thinking ahead and planning out his next move. He hadn’t blindly jumped into anything since signing with Storm Models and look where that had gotten him. But underneath it all there was something else a promise that whatever happened that Louis would be there to take care of him that he could be trusted so without further thought Zayn gripped the hand offered to him figuring why not—he was overdue for an adventure.

“Lead the way, babe.”


End file.
